Reconnected
by Chirugal
Summary: Sequel to 'Connected'. When Gibbs has to spend a week away from DC, he and Abby miss each other enough that their mental connection is reopened... PWP, Gibbs/Abby, one-shot, complete.


**Title**: Reconnected  
**Rating**: NC-17  
**Spoilers**: Only for my fic 'Connected', and season three's _Bloodbath._  
**Summary**: When Gibbs has to spend a week away from DC, he and Abby miss each other enough that their mental connection is reopened…

**Author's Note**: Written for the Gabby Drabble thread on the forum, for the prompt 'Los Angeles'. Except that it's not a drabble by about 2000 words. XD You don't really need to know what happened in 'Connected' to understand this one... I lay it all out anyway.

* * *

It's been six days since he's seen Abby; this will be the sixth night he's lain awake, feeling her absence like a physical presence. He'd never thought a warm presence in his bed would once more become a necessity rather than a luxury, but since he and Abby became a couple, this is the longest they've been apart.

"I miss you so much," she'd said earlier, on the phone. "The bed feels too big for me. Big and cold and _wrong_."

"I'll be home tomorrow," he'd reassured her, privately agreeing. "Just get some sleep."

"Say hi to Callen and Sam and Kensi and Eric and Hetty and Nate for me," she'd said, referring to the LA-based special ops team he's here to help out, before wishing him goodnight a little forlornly.

That was three hours ago, and since then he's been tossing and turning beneath the sheets, sitting up to look over his case notes, then attempting to sleep again. He's finally beginning to feel the pull of sleep, and he embraces it gratefully, sinking down into a dream-state.

"Gibbs?"

His dream is set within his hotel room, and his first thought is that he's still awake. Abby's presence, though, is more within the realm of wishful thinking.

When he turns to her, though, he knows this is more than just a dream. "Abbs, how are you here?"

She rushes to his side, checking him over with both eyes and hands. "Are you okay? Are you safe?"

He enfolds her in his arms, holding tight. "I could ask you the same thing. We haven't been able to do this since-"

"I'm not being held in a room by a crazed lunatic," she fills in the unspoken question, squeezing back. "I promise. I just missed you, is all. And I tried to reach out for you. I didn't think it would actually work."

They both take a second to get over the momentary panic, savouring each other's warmth. They haven't been telepathically linked in a dream state since Abby's insane ex-boyfriend, Mikel Mawher, had escaped from prison and abducted Abby. It was their mental connection that had allowed Gibbs to piece together her whereabouts and find her, though it had taken over two weeks of worry and heartache.

The thought that they might be separated by similar circumstances someday is more than he can bear. It takes a few heartbeats to recover from.

"Glad you're here, Abbs," he tells her, running his thumb gently over her cheekbone.

She smiles and leans in to kiss him, and although things in the dream state are always a little muted compared to the real thing, desire flares through him. He pulls her backward towards the bed, kissing her over and over. Abby slips her hands up under the old shirt he's worn to bed, tugging it over his head and raining soft kisses over his chest.

He halts her before she can go any further, pushing up her camisole top to expose her flat stomach and dropping to his knees to kiss his way across the skin there. She laughs softly, and he stands again, raising an enquiring eyebrow.

"Anyone would think you'd never done that before," she tells him.

"I've done it before," he says, shrugging, then catches her wrist, kissing up her arm from there and smiling at the way she shivers slightly. "Just forgot how much I liked it."

"Even though we can't feel as much in dreams?" she asks, raising her arms as he tugs off her shirt.

"Bet I can get you off anyway," he breathes in her ear, and she catches her breath, her body instinctively pressing closer to his.

He works down her underwear, then gently pushes her to a sitting position on the edge of the bed, pulling the garment free of her legs and then kneeling to kiss her inner thighs, guiding her legs apart. Abby leans her weight back on her arms, biting her lip in anticipation.

Knowing she loves to watch, Gibbs puts on a full show for her, kissing and nipping her skin before tasting her properly. Abby tilts her hips against his tongue with a sigh of encouragement, bracing her heels against his shoulders as he teases her steadily. It takes longer to coax a moan from her than it would have if they were awake, but he's patient, and when she finally forgets herself and cries out, he takes a few seconds' break to shoot her an amused glance.

Abby has other plans. "Come here," she whispers, reaching for him, and they roll together on the bed, friction and heat and appreciative groans replacing his calculated endeavour. For a while, he forgets his pledge to bring her to orgasm completely, as she strips off his boxers and devotes herself to licking and sucking him halfway to ecstasy.

He growls her name, warning her to back off before he loses it, and she straddles him with a grin, guiding him deep inside her. She sets the pace, and he lets her; she knows what she wants, and though it's not quite enough to take him over the edge, she still feels and looks breathtaking.

Finally, she falls forward onto his chest with a cry, pushing him deeper as she trembles against him. He rolls her over and takes what he needs, fast, hard and rough; she wraps her legs around his waist and rides out the aftershocks of her climax with him, her fingernails digging into his back.

His own release crashes over him, and he loses sense of the room, of Abby, of everything. When his awareness returns, he's awake in his LA hotel room, still fully clothed and alone amidst the tangled sheets.

Physically satisfied, but emotionally aching, he sighs her name, willing his pounding heart to slow. Then he kicks off the sheets and goes to clean himself up, glad beyond measure that neither DiNozzo nor McGee accompanied him on this trip. If they had, they'd have been sharing a twin room, and _that_ would take some explaining.

When he returns to bed, having abandoned his clothes on the bathroom floor, the first thing he does is reach for his cell phone. Abby answers on the first ring, her voice slow and satisfied, as it always gets after sex. "Woke yourself up, huh?"

"Could say that," he admits wryly.

Abby giggles, and he doesn't need to see the devilish glint in her eye to know it's there. "You ever dream about me that way before? I mean, one-sided?"

"You really think I could have waited until you kissed me, if I had?"

"Yup," she says. "Cause even though you're one of the most brilliant men I've ever known, sometimes you're kinda… emotionally challenged."

Only Abby could make him break into a full-out grin by insulting him. "I think you're overestimating my self-control."

He hears the distant rustle of sheets as she shifts position. "Really? What, you'd have just driven over to my place and woken me up in the middle of the night?"

"Makes for a good fantasy," he tells her, amused. "Probably not. But I would have asked you out to dinner."

"Boring!" she taunts. "I like my version better. Like, just waking up to your voice in my ear, then your lips on my skin…"

"… is a good way to get arrested for indecent assault, not to mention breaking and entering," he replies, playing devil's advocate just to see how she'll respond.

"Entering, huh?" she teases, the suggestive note in her voice sending a light thrill through his skin. "You know, I dreamt about you."

"Yeah?" She's piqued his curiosity now, and he's all ears.

"Yeah."

He rolls his eyes, imagining the slightly smug grin on her face. "Gonna make me beg, Abbs?"

"Oh, I am tomorrow. I have this whole welcome home thing planned… but you don't need to hear about that now. You wanna hear about my dreams?"

"Plural?"

"_Oh_, yeah. The first one was way back, maybe in the first year I worked for you. I fell asleep at my desk waiting for a result, but my brain thought I was still awake. So when you walked in and pulled me out of my chair and took me up against the wall, I just completely bought into it. And when I woke up, I was hot and wet and aching for you, and I'd gotten my result, so you were pretty much guaranteed to be on your way down to see me…"

He smiles, imagining that, slipping a hand under the sheets to encourage the spark of lust tingling through him. "Was I?"

"Yeah. I had to duck down the hall into the ladies' room before the elevator got there, and I only just made it."

"You touch yourself, Abby?" he asks, getting harder by the moment. "Right there at work?"

Her voice is a little breathless, and he knows her fingers are busy between her thighs. "I knew I shouldn't. I knew you were my boss, and it felt so wrong that it was just unbelievably _right_…"

"And you did." He knows it already; he can tell by the tone of her voice.

"I did," she whispers. "God, I did… and it didn't take long. You were forbidden and you were sexy and you were _right there_, down the hall, right where I'd dreamt you'd taken me…"

He strokes himself more firmly, her words fuelling his desire. "Tell me another."

She gives a soft cry, distracted by her imagination. He speaks her name, the rough edge to his voice commanding her attention. "I once dreamt I was in your basement, totally naked, wandering around looking for you. And then you were behind me, and you pressed me up against your boat with your body against my back and my cheek against the wood…"

Gibbs gives a low growl of protest when she trails off, and she responds with a moan that goes straight to his cock. "I… The wood was smooth. You'd finished sanding it. No risk of splinters. And you pressed your hands against the back of my thighs, and you rubbed me right against the rib of the boat, and I was so wet that it was just the right amount of friction..."

Trust Abby to be so inventive in dreams. He can picture the scene perfectly; he knows it wouldn't work if they really tried it, but that doesn't lessen the impact. "You come against my boat, Abbs?"

Her can sense she's close to coming against her own _fingers_; she takes a few moments to gather her thoughts before responding. "I was almost there, moving on my own, your fingers on my nipples and your mouth on my neck… and then you whispered to me, and I came so damn hard…"

He thinks he can guess, but he wants to hear her say it. "Whispered what?"

"_Feel the wood?_" she gasps out, and then she's lost, taking herself the rest of the way with a final cry that's probably loud enough to wake the neighbours.

His body responds to the sound, his imagination feeding him images and sensations to go along with it. It takes him only a few practised touches to follow her over the edge for the second time that night, and in the aftermath he listens to her shaky breathing, glad he got to stay connected to her in some way this time around.

"Good for you, too?" she murmurs after a while.

"Oh, you know it was." All that's missing is her; he wants to be able to fall asleep with her arms and scent all around him.

"Wish you were here," she says sleepily.

"Will be tomorrow." And he won't be taking another trip to Los Angeles in a good long while.

"I love you." It's not uttered in expectation that he'll echo her; she knows him too well for that. She's never had trouble expressing her emotions in words.

He, on the other hand, prefers to let his actions speak for him. And he will. "I know."

"Night…"

"Night, Abbs." He hangs up to let her get some rest, then drags himself out of bed and into the shower, deciding to get a head-start on his side of the paperwork before the morning.

Maybe he can catch an earlier flight home.

_END._


End file.
